


in her eyes

by leonkarnak



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Other, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, basically rynes view on emet throughout shb, implied wol/emet, non wol oc mention (briefly)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:40:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24627952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonkarnak/pseuds/leonkarnak
Summary: it is in hushed voices at the camp that they first tell her of them-- ‘ascians’, beings of darkness who cause calamity and strife wherever they go. killers who scheme, who orchestrate the end times-- who kill without remorse, without sadness. emotions are beyond them, and they exist only to bring pain to others.somehow, she never expected to meet one.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	in her eyes

it is in hushed voices at the camp that they first tell her of them-- ‘ascians’, beings of darkness who cause calamity and strife wherever they go. killers who scheme, who orchestrate the end times-- who kill without remorse, without sadness. emotions are beyond them, and they exist only to bring pain to others.

somehow, she never expected to meet one. they seemed as distant as the rest of thancred’s stories of their home, some world she could not possibly see or interact with beyond the people plucked from it into hers.

it’s perhaps a foolish notion to begin with-- her world is only like this due to their interference after all, so it should come as no surprise when the man named emet-selch waltzes into her life, smugly smiling as a red sigil covers his features. what is a surprise is his claims of a desire for ‘cooperation’, to join hands with the people she has come to see as her family-- and people who certainly would normally be an ascian’s enemy.

thancred’s nails dig into his skin as he balls his fists angrily, leaving little red marks she makes a note to patch up later-- even urianger is distrusting, mouth set in a firm line. she has not the experience they do, not the context beyond their stories and the appearance of the man in front of them. and though he gloats with a dramatic flair, when she looks in his eyes…

he looks so tired, she thinks. like he has lived thousands of lifetimes and slept for none of them, has endured all that a man can take several times over-- perhaps it is the weary bags under his eyes, or the dimmed light behind his amber eyes-- but regardless of what it is, all she can feel as she looks upon the man is…

...pity, perhaps.

she expects the feeling to fade-- to be replaced with the loathing she reads on the faces of her companions, a pitch black hole in her heart, a cold anger (like what she feels when she thinks of ran’jit, maybe, or of vauthry)-- but it never comes. the pity remains as she watches him ghost around their camps, as he is turned away time and time again by her companions.

she awakens one night to find an empty space that shouldn’t be there next to thancred, and she slips off into the night, looking for where it is her dad-- her other dad (is dad the right word?)-- went. and she finds him on the beach, sitting on the rocks-- and perched next to him is a man dressed in silks and furs, the man others would have her believe is the source of all agony, all darkness, all misery. and they speak in low voices in the night, maral holding his legs to chest, voice wavering, talking about something she cannot quite hear--

and emet-selch, the ascian, paragon of darkness, orchestrator of calamities, sighing as he pats his back with the same gentle hand thancred uses when he comforts her.

she keeps a close eye on the ascian from that day forward-- she watches as the man hovers around the warrior of darkness, as they go from bitter enemies to joking and exchanging tiny touches that make her wonder if there is not more going on that she and the other scions do not know of.

he is not always gentle. he is often just what everyone says he is-- and she knows it is not as simple as a misunderstood man who only needs some love. but nor does she think it as simple as a one-dimensional villain who only wants to hurt others.

she sees, in parts, slowly coming to surface, a good person. a good person, drowning within the dark.

and her pity grows.

it grows even as she walks through a city too large for her and her companions, as she speaks to phantoms with far too much care put into them-- each with a different face, a different heart, a different personality-- as she walks through town and does not hear a single conversation repeated as she does.

the amount of aether to do such a thing is incredible-- and she cannot imagine it trifling even for emet-selch. and she wonders how long he has carried this burden, this loss-- she could barely bear it in the moments they thought y’shtola dead, and even losing ran’jit, as horrible as he was-- was a burden upon her. the thought of losing everything--

she cannot fathom it.

 _remember us_ , he asks as he dies, as his aether collapses, consumed by the light expelled forth into his chest. _remember that we once lived._

she is still too weak to stand, to speak, but within her heart she speaks, as though she thinks he could somehow hear the whispers of her soul, respond to her--

_i will._


End file.
